Ever shining
by Arianka
Summary: Feanaro's boys bake some gingerbread cookies for the winter festival. Nothing can go wrong there, right? Oh, wait. It's Feanaro's sons we're talking about. Fluff. And Merry Christmas to everyone.


I know it's probably not the story some of you may wait for, but... just a tiny Christmasy ficlet. Includes tons of fluff and smells of gingerbread cookies.

Written for Feanorian Fun Bingo  
prompt filled: seasoned with spices

(I know my interpretation of prompts is very loose, but hush, nobody sees, right?)

Merry Christmas for everyone. May the next year bring some good.

* * *

 **Ever shining**

The scent of cinnamon and cloves was overwhelming, bringing the atmosphere of the winter festival from the doorstep. Fëanaro smiled as he closed the doors behind him, as not to let the chill inside. There was no sign of smoke, meaning that Maitimo managed to handle his brothers and baking. From what he knew, the cooks had decided that his four sons were bound to cause a disaster, and sooner than later, so they had left the boys on their own to have their fun with rampaging the kitchens.

 _So far so good_ , thought Fëanaro, heading to the bathroom to wash his hands before joining his sons. Preparing gingerbread cookies for the winter festival was something he had always enjoyed, even with his younger half-siblings following his steps. He was glad when his boys had taken a liking of this tradition as well. Nerdanel wasn't too fond of cooking, but he never missed the chance to participate.

The relative silence of the household was suddenly broken by a loud crash and a distraught scream.

"No! You ruined it!"

"So much for quiet," muttered Fëanaro under his breath and quickened his pace. "What is this drama about?" He raised his voice as he entered the kitchen and was met with utter chaos.

Maitimo was holding Moryo, who was wriggling and crying, his chubby face reddened and traced with marks of tears running down his cheeks. There was a broken plate on the floor and a few cookies laying around, now probably glued with the sticky icing.

"You may want to check your drawer locks, Atto," replied Maitimo casually, swinging his youngest brother in a vain attempt to calm him down. "We were this close from having our cookies decorated with these," he pointed at some tiny gems on the table, part of them half-covered with green icing.

"Or rather, Moryo would have had you and Amme fed with those," remarked Makalaure without even glancing up from his plate of cookies.

"Russo wouldn't let me!" wailed Moryo, glaring accusingly at his eldest brother. All the effect he was probably trying to achieve was ruined by the tears. "He didn't want me to make shiny cookies for you. And for grandpa."

Fëanaro was glad for Maitimo's timely intervention in that matter; he'd rather not have his father choke on tiny rubies or emeralds, even if they looked nice.

"Come here, Moryo," he reached his arms and released his eldest son from his upset weight. "Russandol is right, you can't put gems in food. They are not edible. Do you remember that word?"

Carnistir glared at his father instead, concentrating hard on trying to remember the meaning. From what Fëanaro picked from his unguarded mind, by now Moryo was fairly sure he would not be allowed to decorate the cookies, which meant that all the fun of preparations for the festival was ruined.

"But they are so beautiful and shiny," mumbled the boy instead and he buried his face in his father's neck. Fëanaro sighed as Moryo tangled his sticky fingers into his hair. Tyelkormo smirked at him, but for once he kept his mouth shut and worked on his own cookies instead of agitating his younger brother even more.

"They are, but they are not for eating," said Fëanaro sternly. "And I don't recall allowing you to take them in first place. Why did you?"

"Because Kano wouldn't let me cut patterns in the icing," came an instant reply.

"I would not have you cut off your little fingers, Moryo," said Makalaure in his defence. "The knife I'm using is too sharp for you and so far you've done well without it. AND without the gems," he added pointedly.

"He laughed." A tiny hand pointed on Tyelkormo. "And I just wanted..."

"What you may want right now is to ask Maitimo for a bowl of water," Fëanaro interrupted him. If he let Carnistir whine a little longer, Tyelkormo would most certainly snap back. Things were likely to go spiral from there.

"Why?" Moryo sniffled and looked up at his father, trying to figure out where this was heading to.

"You have some gems to wash," Fëanaro reminded him as he put him back on the floor. "I want them all clean first. Then we shall see what can be done about your cookies."

"I can still make cookies?" Asked the boy hopefully, his sticky hand wrapped around Fëanaro's finger.

"Once all my gems are clean, yes."

Fëanaro wished he could always coax his boys into cleaning this easily. Moryo sprang, almost tripping over his own feet in his eagerness to fulfil his task. He returned to the table with a bowl and a clean cloth Maitimo had given him. Fëanaro chuckled and sat down beside his youngest boy. He'd better see that all his gems return to his drawer. After all, there were some cookies waiting to be decorated!

* * *

It's Feanaro and his sons. They can't go without shiny objects, right?


End file.
